The Crucible of Time
by VulcanComander
Summary: This is set about a year after the events of the Crucible. Abigail is a prostitute is Boston and she gets a "client"- a man from her past. Abigail, starting to descend to some degree of insanity, defends her actions to her baby, John.
SETTING: _Abigail Williams enters, leaving a busy tavern with a man and walking along a dark street shrouded in darkness and shadows. The noisy pub is seen and heard in the distance. It emits a cacophony of music and men shouting over concubines and alcohol._

 _Abigail looks beyond her years. Dark circles and crow's feet surround her eyes, remnants of her time spent awake at night. She wears a shawl over her head and shoulders. It hides her face and tries to conceal a basket in her arms. She turns the corner with her companion for the night and they face each other. He is tense and uncertain of her touch, and Abigail can tell that he has not paid for such intimacy before. He wears his hat to hide his face. She tenderly places the basket on the dirt road._

Abigail: Sir, you need not be ashamed. After tonight, you will have experienced things that will make you forget what shame is. Or better yet, you might like the shame in it all. _She waits for an answer, but none comes._ Am I not attractive? Do you think I would not please you? I can please you, as I have pleased many men before. _Still no reply._

 _The man reaches out a hand and brushes it against her cheek, then draws his knuckles down her jawline and neck, down to her breasts. She inhales sharply and he retracts. Growing braver, he inches towards her and pushes her against the wall of the hovel beside them. The space between them closes and as they are about to kiss, a sliver of moonlight illuminates Abigail's face. The man pulls back in horror. Abigail sees his face, it is the face of Reverend Parris._

Abigail: Uncle! What are you doing in Boston?

Parris: _in disgust:_ It would be more proper to ask _you_ the same, had I not already known the answer...becoming a _whore,_ apparently. Perhaps Proctor's words carried some truth,

Abigail: I was not a whore.

Parris: You laid with a married man.

Abigail: The witch who had made him promise himself to her had no good intentions in mind, mark it. What John and I had, it was true and pure. I loved him with all my being and I promise that he felt the same towards me. It were _she_ who plagued our love.

Parris: If you knew that Goody Proctor trafficked with the Devil before you laid in her husband's bed, oh, more than a year ago, why did you not tell me? Why wait? _Abigail is silent._ Abigail...did...did you know that Elizabeth was not a witch? Look at me! Dear God, woman. What have you done? Do you know of the upset and ruin you left behind in Salem? So many are killed, so much property left abandoned. MY GOOD NAME IS BLACKENED! I walk upon the streets and men and women alike grimace at me and hide their children's faces so that they may not gaze upon the man who sent so many to die. BUT IT WAS YOU! You are the one who sent them to hang. And what more, you have stolen everything from me, my church, my money and my favorable reputation.

Abigail: And what about me?! I was once held in the same light and favor as a saint. I worked to cleanse the town of the Devil's plague which had sent so many witches, human stains,to our good town. I had everyone, but now I have no one, not even John, and -

Parris: John is dead.

Abigail: _She stares past Parris._ You lie.

Parris: You killed him.

Abigail: YOU LIE!

Parris: I DO NOT! It were you who made the first accusation, and it were you who watched every accused witch hang.

Abigail: I was doing God's work!

Parris: I DO GOD'S WORK. What you did ruined me...and our town. There is no one left who would come to my sermons, to hear the uncle of the wretch who sent their loved ones to die talk about God.

Abigail: You know nothing of God. You know nothing of his work. Tell me Uncle why, after all your years as reverend, has He never come to you. That night in the woods, I saw God and He told me-

Parris: You never saw God, the only one you saw was John Proctor.

Abigail: His wife were a witch, she-

Parris: Quiet, girl!

Abigail: I am no girl.

Parris: I should think not. _He sighs_ Is this what happens when you lose your father? You destroy the town lusting after a man twice your age?

Abigail: It was not lust, it were love.

Parris: You know nothing of love.

Abigail: I know more than you, who loved money and reputation before anyone else.

Parris: Oh, reputation? I suppose you know all about one's reputation. After all, your name was first spoken with loathing and disgust by those who viewed you as a harlot. Then. your name was revered and feared because you held the power in your voice to send any man or woman, no matter how high of status, to the gallows. And now, look at you, back from where you started...a whore. I suppose that part of you never quite left, did it? I know of the rumours, Abby. I heard about Hale and Putnam. Were you so eager to replace the touch of one married man with another?

Abigail: And what of you? Once an admired pastor to one who seeks companionship from a whore? From your _niece_ nonetheless.

Parris: _slaps her_ Abby...Abigail...what you have done...to me...to the town...to those people who may have been innocent who were sent to the gallows...not even God, with his infinite mercy may be able to forgive you.

Abigail: I have done his work. I have done his bidding. The only thing I need to repent for is my work now.

Parris: No God that I have worshipped would allow the death of innocents. Are you certain it was God who called upon you? The Devil does not always appear with horns and promises of Hell. Oftentimes he comes as everything you have ever wanted and wished for.

Abigail: _Remembering Elizabeth and John_ , _she angrily says_ Leave me! I will not have you speak to me of God and the Devil. What I did was right, it was right! I was right!

 _Exeunt Parris_

 _Abigail is now alone. She sinks to the floor and pulls something out of the basket beside her. It is a crying baby wrapped in a dirty cloth. Abigail picks him up and holds him to her chest, cradling and whispering to him._

Abigail: Shh...John, you must be quiet. The men cannot hear a crying baby. Shhh….it's what Parris said that upsets you, isn't it? He is a man of lies and greed, take no heed to his words. Let me tell you the truth. Almost a year ago, I met a man named John. He was strong and wise and I fell in love with him. He came to me almost every night, craving my touch and I made him sweat like a stallion in our nights of sin and passion. It were his wife, if you can call that wretch a "wife", to whom he were betrothed who made it a sin. She was an awful woman, mark it. She lied and spread rumours and tried to keep my love away from me. One night, I danced in the woods, with a slave and other girls to do magic to make it possible for John and I to be together. As we danced, I saw a light from above the trees. I heard a voice, a glorious voice from God! "Abigail," he said, " Abigail, there is work to be done in your town of Salem. There be witches here, witches who call the Devil "God". Seek out these who work against Me, and make them see My light. Abigail, be the savior of your town, go forth and show them the Holy Path." Blessed by God, I said unto him, "Yes, God, I shall. I shall return them to your good ways." And so, with His blessing, I began to look for those who traffick with the Devil. Betty fell ill, stricken with fear of what Uncle would have done had he known we danced, for he would not have believed that I saw God when he has never seen Him, even being a reverend. I was scared, too. Scared, of Parris and the whip. I was afraid that I would not be able to do God's wishes. I did not know how I would see who was a witch and who was not, until Tituba...and everything became so clear so I spoke out against her, and they took her away. I saw more witches, and so did the other girls...we were doing God's work. The townspeople respected me! I was no longer a worker girl, made to slave away for Goody Proctor. Those who confessed lived, and those who refused would hang and be sent back to the pits of Hell fire with their god. They would not be missed, those slaves of the Devil. Ministers and judges from all over the colony came to witness our work. Danforth, being old and wise, saw the good I was doing. He had no remorse in sending them to hang, but of course, there had to be those who had remorse. Remorse- ha!- what a weakness to have in such times. Remorse is a crack in strength, a crack in which evil can seep through. Hale was weak. Hale could only see the good in them. His first priority was to get them to confess, to spare them death. He called me a liar, oh, yes, a LIAR. People turned on me. They were naiive. They were too blind to see that anyone could be touched by evil. Rebecca Nurse was a witch, George Jacobs was a witch. Elizabeth Proctor, oh the "good and Godly" Elizabeth Proctor was a witch. Everyone was such a damn hypocrite. They come to terms so easily when doing God's work rids the town of the drunk, sinful, and homeless, but the instant it becomes someone more than nothing, they turn their backs and sign petitions and read the Scriptures for answers which lay in front of them. I knew Elizabeth was a witch, not because God whispered in my ear that it were so, but because I knew...in my heart and with every inch of my body and in the very essence of my soul. She was evil. She was a witch. She ruined my good name and spread the lie throughout the entire town that I was a whore. IT WAS A LIE! I was not a whore, nor an adulterer. I was in love with a man who loved me. She stole his heart and kept it for herself, and refused to let it go. I knew that if she were gone, he would be free to love me and only me. But I was too late, and she had already corrupted his mind. Her hold on him was frozen still. He called me a lying, murderous bitch and wanted me to hang, and I saw _she starts to cry_ I saw that Elizabeth was not the only one who clutched him with a wicked grip. The Devil worked his voodoo on him. He crept into his skin, clawed away at his good soul and lay in his body. He could no longer love me as the Devil's spawn. Soon, the town knew...they knew of his wickedness and still they would not believe that he was the Devil. Even after he renounced God and these trials, people still loved him and refused to believe my evidence. MY WORD was all these men and women needed once, just one word, one cry of "witch" and the heathen was hung. They strayed further from God's light, to the point I could no longer help them. The town was turning on me. John, my beloved John, would hang if he would not confess to working with the Devil. I left. I took Parris' money, all of it, and took Mercy to Boston. I was right. I was always right. God chose me to do his bidding and I failed. I was once a saint in my town. They loved me and respected me, and above all else, _feared_ me. I could cry out who was a witch and ruin them and their wrongdoings. But there were too many of them...too many wrongdoers...too many who have strayed too far from the Lord, and I was only one. I have lost this battle. And here, in Boston, where you were born shortly after the trials, I am forced to sin to keep a roof above our heads, to provide for you and Mercy. I can only beg for God's forgiveness, and pray that he pardons my failure to do His work, and that he comes for Salem with a punishment so severe to rack out all the evil in that abominable town and make them feel the same torment I feel. As for John, the man who showed me all that was wrong in this God-damned world, I do not believe that he is dead. I refuse to believe that. No….no...one day, we will go back to Salem. And we will find your father. And Elizabeth would be gone and we can be together. One day, one day you will see him again, either in this life or the next. He and I will greet God together, or, if we are not forgiven, we will burn in the pits of Hell together, and he will once again know my screams.

 _There is a loud clamor of wind and thunder and a swirling tunnel of blue and green appear. Sparks of electricity brighten the night's darkness. Abigail clutches John Jr. to her chest and turns away from the bright light._

Abigail: God? Is it you? Have you come for me? _Falling to her knees_ Oh, please forgive me, as I am unworthy. I have broken my word, Salem is too deeply tainted with the Devil's infection. Take me to John!

 _Maury Povich appears from the whirlwind of noise and color. He hold a red card up to his face and looks at Abigail disapprovingly._

Maury: John Proctor is **not** the father!

Le Fin


End file.
